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“Depends on the subject, I’m sure,” I say coolly. “I have a meeting I have to get to. Thanks for the coffee.” My words are stiff. I don’t want to hear about how brilliant Callie is or how good she is at stalking people and invading their privacy. This is why I should have kept her at arm’s length.
It’s not until I’m in the car back to the office that I think about her father’s words. She hates being a paparazzo. She started the photos because they couldn’t pay rent. On that shitty apartment? I wince. And five years ago, she would have been fresh out of journalism school. Bright-eyed and ready to take on the world. Instead, she’s living with her dad, making him drink decaf, and trying to save the family business.
Who am I in this scenario? The hero, saving her business? No. I nearly laugh. I’m the big bad wolf at the door, coming to blow their fragile house down. A role I’m comfortable with. It gets things done. It’s why I’m feared in business. I’ll take fear and respect over affection any day.
But just in case, I email George and tell them to have HR start paying Callie Thompson.
30
Callie
I’ve never regretted a truce more than I do this week. Why was I so adamant that we not be involved? Why did I agree with him? It’s impossible to be near Jonah without remembering the gym incident. Every hour is torture. On Monday, we stay late to work on a presentation he’s giving that week to a huge investor.
It’s seven p.m. and we’re in his office. His tie is loose around his neck, and his hair is standing in every direction.
“Are you nervous?” I eye him suspiciously.
“I don’t get nervous.” He’s scanning his notes again and pacing the office.
“You look nervous, though.”
“Thompson,” he growls. “When I asked for you to work on this project, this is not what I meant.” He shoves a hand through his hair. It’s delicious when it goes in every direction, and my hands remember exactly how silky it was when his head was between my legs.
“Well, go ahead and do the presentation then. I’m waiting.” I cross my arms and raise a brow. He gives me a mutinous look and slumps into his chair.
“We have to win this. I’ve been trying to get the Danforth Group to invest with us for years. And every time I get close, Dylan does something to make them question our reputation or our abilities. This is the first time I’ve ever been in a position to present to their board.”
I tilt my head as I watch him. He’s really worked up. “Why don’t I do some research into them? Send me all the materials you’ve sent them over the years. Maybe we can figure out where you went wrong.”
He lifts grateful eyes to meet mine. “We recorded the prior meetings at their request. I’ll send you the recordings.”
I nod and go back to my desk. I like Jonah when he’s like this. All business and treating me like a partner.
I spend two hours watching recordings of Jonah doing what he does best, and it’s so fucked up, but the way he commands a room has me turned on and shifting in my seat to ease the ache.
“Thompson,” he shouts at nine p.m. “We need to eat. What do you want?”
“You can pick,” I shout back, half-expecting him to stomp over and tell me to go pick up our food.
A few breaths later, he’s at my desk. “I asked you a question.”
I turn to see his arms crossed as he leans against the door. The triangle of skin at his collar is bared. I remember what it felt like—warm and silky smooth. Delicate over the corded muscle of his neck. “What do you want for dinner?” he repeats. “I don’t want to pick. That’s what I have you for.” He drops a credit card on my desk and strides away.
I finger the metal edges. I’m starting to see through him. The command is a ploy to get me to pick what I want, I think. I’m not sure. I shake my head and order from my favorite steakhouse. I’ll have to figure him out another day.
* * *
On Tuesday, we eat in the office again. We’re head-to-head over the coffee table as Jonah scans the notes I took.
“Environmental concerns? Really?” He tilts his head to look over at my notes, and I tense. He’s close. Close enough that I can see those gold flecks in the black-brown of his eyes. Close enough to see that one eyebrow is a little more arched than the other. Maybe that’s why he looks so arrogant all the time. His mouth is soft, not sneering, but not smiling either.
“What?” he asks. “Do I have something in my teeth?”
“Uh. Nope.” Eloquent, Cal. “And yes, they asked you several times about the environmental impact of your California portfolio in the last meeting. I don’t think you had the data. When your back was turned, a few of them made notes on their papers about it. If you check the video, the guy closest to you is frowning as he writes. I looked him up. He’s their CFO and he’s on the board of a couple of environmental charities.”
Jonah’s mouth drops open before he clamps it shut. “We can use this. I want you at the presentation tomorrow.”
“You do?” My head jerks back in surprise.
